in defense of occasional silence

this uncertainty sews itself into my skin
until even the idea of balance would steady me, these shaking hands
grasping for a touch to stir
something in me I’ve left behind
and lost to that part of yesterday we’re still trying to sleep through to the end of,
grasping for something other than the fragility found in places we were sure we knew
so well we could never leave them
even as they were leaving us weak
kneed and emptied out,
left to try to stand still, silent, still
searching for a way to hide the intent assigned to our caution,
the meaning behind the spaces between.